To the Continuation
by Diary
Summary: Theodore Nott from the Battle of Hogwarts to his death sentence. Complete.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

0

Avada Kedavra.

My father falls, and I wonder if I should have faced him, cast the spell verbally. The one thing both sides agree on is casting that particular curse when an opponent's back is turned is utter cowardice.

What's done is done.

I snap my wand in half, discarding it, another thing both sides would condemn. Wandlore is sacred to many, no matter their blood status or loyalty. My wand chose me, but I've never had much loyalty to it. At most, I could say I'm grateful I was able to perform the magic I wanted and needed over the years.

McGonagall is either too soft or very cunning.

She evacuated the Slytherins first, but she didn't make any move to keep us restrained once we were out of the castle. Naturally, many came back. Some, of course, are going to fight with the Dark Lord; others will fight for this school, for Potter, for a world without the Dark Lord.

I came back so that I could kill my father. He once saved my life, which I suppose means I just went against the magic inherent in life debts.

Funny I should mention that.

"Tsk-tsk," the snatcher says, wand against my neck. "Little boy wandering around."

I've read many people say a prayer or a pithy saying when they face death. _I welcome death_, or _please, gods, don't take me_. I find myself wondering what death will be like. Ghost, limbo, heaven or hell, or absolutely nothing at all, each fascinating to contemplate, especially the fact that in a few seconds, if the last one's true for me, there will be nothing more to contemplate.

There's a cry of pain, not mine, and the wand's gone.

I look to see a house elf looking in bewilderment as the snatcher bleeds profusely. Haemophilic, I recognise. The elf only made a simple cut on the leg with a butter knife.

Kneeling down, I tell the elf, "He can't stop bleeding without medical attention."

The elf impresses me by walking over, grabbing the dropped wand, handing it to me, and then, walking away, presumably to find more intruders to stab.

Looking down, I see the man has passed out. He'll die soon.

I walk away.

Even if I wanted to help him, which I don't particularly, I don't know any medical aid, and I'm not going to try to get him to someone who can help, risking my life even further. If he's lucky, someone will come across him before he dies, and they'll manage to save him.

Magic tingles through me, and I fall down face-first, body snapped together, unnaturally straightened. Body-bind, my mind supplies as my nervous breakdown begins.

I'm not claustrophobic. I find small spaces comforting, actually. I have a horrible fear of being restrained, however, and now, that fear is rapidly becoming fully-realised.

Then, there's a sharp pain, and nothing.

0

The first thing I'm aware of is the fact I can move.

Opening my eyes reveals darkness.

I'm on a bed, and my eyes begin to adjust, telling me I'm not blind. There's faint voices and various smells. Carefully, I sit up, and I realise I have what I suspect is an IV in my arm. Most likely, I'm in St. Mungo's, then.

Curtains open slightly, and someone steps in. "Mister Nott?"

"Yes."

"I'm going to turn on the lights."

I cover my eyes.

Once my eyes have adjusted, I see the young healer is a plump man with green skin. "Don't be alarmed," he tells me. "My niece spilt some permanent dye on me while she was decorating Easter eggs."

"Is it April?"

"Oh, no," he assures me. "It's May 4th. Tanya decorates Easter eggs as a hobby. I'm Ali Thompson," he introduces himself. "What's the last thing you remember," he asks, coming over to examine me.

"I was walking around Hogwarts, the battle going on, and someone body-bound me. Then, there was a sharp pain, and I woke up a few minutes ago."

He nods, sitting down. "You were slightly dehydrated and are still somewhat undernourished. The spells, however, have had no noticeable permanent effect on you. The wand you were found with isn't yours; did someone cast another spell we're unaware of?"

"Not that I know of," I answer. "My wand was broken during the battle, and one of the house elves gave me the wand of a snatcher it stabbed with a butter knife."

"I want to keep you on the IV for a few more hours," Healer Thompson says. "It's-"

"I've been taking Muggle Studies since my third year," I interrupt. "I understand what the main purposes of IVs are."

He raises an eyebrow, and then, nods to himself. A Slytherin taking Muggle studies (true Muggle studies, not the kind Carrow taught), especially for more than a year, is rare. Even those who take it as a soft option usually only take one year. I wonder what he's thinking.

I don't take it as a soft option. I did extra credit and never complained when Burbage held me to higher standards than some of the other students. Most of the students she held to minimum standards, and some, such as the Slytherins who took one year, she gave automatic As so long as they weren't disruptive. People like Granger and I, however, she graded more harshly, less likely to overlook our mistakes, and expected us to do the extra-credit work.

"Professor Slughorn will be here shortly," he continues. "How are you feeling?"

"Normal. I need to use the toilet, though."

"Best do that, first, and then, we can finish talking. There's a clean toothbrush, toothpaste, and toothflossing stringmints," he says, helping me stand and guiding me to the bathroom.

After I've relieved myself and taken care of the rest of my hygienic needs, I return, waving away his attempts to help.

"From what I can tell, you haven't suffered any damage that needs to be addressed from the battle, although I am concerned about your nutrition levels. You're borderline anaemic; do you know what that means?"

"It has to do with blood."

"To put it simply, your blood needs certain nutrients, and for some reason, it hasn't been getting enough of them. Would you mind explaining your eating habits?"

"I eat during mealtimes."

"What do you usually eat?"

"At Hogwarts, whatever's closest on the table. At home, whatever the house elves fix. I eat a plate, and then, I'm done."

So, Healer Thompson stays for another thirty minutes, making a chart and explaining how I should approach food.

0

Professor Slughorn doesn't come.

Headmistress McGonagall does, looking at me with tired, red eyes.

"Mister Nott," she says, gently, "your father-"

Had better be dead. I don't hold much stock in wandlore, but if he somehow managed to survive and I broke my wand for nothing, I'm not going to take it very well.

"Your father is dead," she says, looking at me as if afraid I'm going to cry or whatever it is grief-stricken people do. I suppose the answer is she's too soft. I've been listening to the wireless, and people are already condemning her for assuming the worst of all Slytherins. For me personally, her doing that was one of the few times I ever felt a spark of respect for her.

I nod. "I've been preparing myself for the possibility."

She looks close to tears. "Mister Nott, your father was at Hogwarts. He was killed by a killing curse."

"Professor- Sorry. Headmistress, my father was a death eater. Obviously, I'm not happy he's dead, but as I said, I've been preparing for it. The Dark Lord had a temper and very little use for loyalty, no matter how long-term, and if it wasn't him- I don't care. If my father was attacking someone, I'm not going to hold a grudge against the person who stopped him."

Sighing, she sits down. "We tried sending an owl to your house elves, but it kept coming back."

The manor's unplottable, and before my father was sent to Azkaban, he made me secret-keeper of it so that I'd be safe during the summer and the house elves couldn't be brought in during my school years. "I need to check on them once I'm released," I inform her. "I don't know what they do and don't know about my father and Potter winning."

"I'll escort you," she says, tone brokering no argument. "There's less than a month left, but I'd like to encourage you to finish your school year. Naturally, exams will be cancelled."

"I plan on it," I tell her.

0

We take a ministry car to the manor. It's far in the country, safely away from muggles, dirty bloods, and blood traitors. On my request, a ministry official had taken the fidelius charm off me, though I intend to keep the manor unplottable.

"Mr Ollivander is working as hard as he can to get wands for those who need them. You can add your name to the list once we get to Hogwarts. He's trying to get students taken care of first, but there are others who need it more," McGonagall tells me.

"That's fine. I don't mind waiting. If he's still busy at the end of the term, I can travel and get one elsewhere."

"I am sorry about your wand."

"I knew the risks before I went in, Headmistress."

She visibly hesitates.

"If you're wondering why, it's because I was tired of constant uncertainty. My father was suddenly thrown in Azkaban, Potter and the ministry were arguing, and then, when it became clear the Dark Lord was coming back into power, I watched people I'd seen for years, some of them for all my life, disappear or end up dead."

Reaching over, she pats my hand, which I'm not sure how to respond to.

We arrive, and I tap the iron gates three times with my left ring and middle finger. They open, and we go past, them shutting behind us.

"Young Master," Elise greets when I let myself in. She's an old house-elf who was my father's primary caretaker when he was growing up. There's a deep gash in one of her ears, and I wonder what she did that she thought deserved punishment.

"No," I answer. "My father's dead."

Elise sighs, as if she, too, had been preparing for this moment. "Master is safe, at least. Elise will make some tea for him and guest."

"Elise," I say, stopping her. "I'm going back to Hogwarts soon. I need to talk to you and all the others. Get Headmistress McGonagall some tea, and then, have the others assemble in the kitchen."

0

It seems as if all the elves have self-inflicted injury. Some of them had muttered sympathies, patting me, but none of them seem to truly mourn him. Thank goodness for that; I wouldn't know how to deal with them if they did.

"From now on, there'll be no more self-punishment," I tell them. "If you make a mistake, fix it. If it's something I need to know about, come to Elise or me. The ministry may come over; if they do, protect the gold but otherwise cooperate fully with them. If they want to take anything, aside from yourselves and the gold, let them. I'm going back to Hogwarts today; I'll be back at the end of the term."

My father's distrust of goblins went further than that of most pureblood supremacists. He kept the family fortune and heirlooms in a secret compartment of his bedroom and was secret-keeper to it. Thankfully, he told the elves and me the secret.

The elves shift, and I don't know what they're thinking.

"Master should eat before he goes back to Hogwarts," Elise says, reaching over to lead me back to where McGonagall is waiting.

0

I arrive in the common room.

"Hello, Nott," Blaise Zabini says as Bulstrode's cat, a British Bombay by the name of Yumiko, comes over and nudges me. "You and I are the only seventh years left in the House. Malfoy and whichever of the goons survived are being held in custody, Parkinson's parents have taken her somewhere, that girl with the glasses, I guess we should find out her bloody name, is dead, Greengrass and Davis packed up and left, Urquhart is dead, and Bulstrode hasn't been answering my owls."

"There are ways to make yourself where owls can't find you."

"I know," he answers. "If she's dead, I'm going to kill her cat."

Zabini is a vegetarian and very protective of the castle's elves. Filch and Auror Kingsley didn't let us retrieve our belongings and pets when we were led out, and Zabini, worried about the cat, was ready to hex them, probably getting himself killed in the process, until Urquhart stepped in and smoothed things over. Somehow, I'm not worried for the cat even if Bulstrode does turn up dead.

"Where's Slughorn?"

"I don't know," he answers, stretching out on the couch. "Maybe we'll get lucky and he won't come back."

"What about the younger years?"

"Most of their parents have got them. Ling, Miko Ling, the girl obsessed with Longbottom's parents, was hit with an interrupted killing curse. Her parents took her home to die; I imagine her brother won't be back this year. The Carrow twins, the girls, they're in custody. Harper's still here. Prewett wanted to stay, but her father showed up and tried to kill Arthur Weasley with a chair for not telling him what was going on. Then, he found out that the Weasley girl knew that Prewett had faked her genealogy line, and he tried to attack her, which caused some very interesting things to happen. In the end, the Weasleys put her and her father on the Knight Bus, but who knows if she'll find a way back or not. I don't know about anyone else."

Yumiko falls asleep in my lap.

0

Zabini yanks the little boy down. "Obviously, we have no chance of winning the House Cup. Don't make it so that you spend the rest of your stay in detention."

The little boy, Graham Pritchard, scowls. "Then make them go away!"

Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillian shift uncomfortably. Both are purebloods, both are blood traitors, and the latter seems to fancy Neville Longbottom. I imagine he'll choose her over Lovegood. It's vaguely ironic such blood traitors would make a pureblood match. Lovegood had a muggle-born mother, though based on her maternal muggle-born great-aunt, I suspect there was a pureblood squib hiding somewhere deep in the family tree, and her father is the product of a muggle-born father and muggle mother.

I may not understand people, but I do see their motivations, often clearer than they do.

Abbott wants security and a companionship, and she's willing to settle for the first nice bloke who looks at her differently than her two male friends do. Longbottom and Lovegood are in love, but Longbottom wants conventional, pretty wife, someone to talk to over breakfast, maybe a child or two. He doesn't want a passionate, risk-everything, can't live without them love; he killed the Dark Lord's familiar, but he's still the same scared boy he was when he first came here. Lovegood wants the passionate, risk-everything, can't live without them love, but she isn't going interfere. If he chooses Abbott, then, she'll move on.

"If any of us have bothered you, take it up with a professor," Zabini says. "We're just trying to eat our food in peace."

"The thing is," Abbott says, glancing at Macmillian, "we were wondering if you would like to sleep in the Hufflepuff basement, in our dorms. I mean, there's only you and Nott in the seventh year, and there are only sixteen of you in total. It must be lonely in the Slytherin dungeon. We've talked to the headmistress and our heads, and they all said that it was fine with them but it was up to you."

"What about the rest of your House," Pritchard inquires, cynically, as he continues glaring.

"We had a vote," Abbott answers. "No one will bother you, we promise. Um- Ernie." She nods at him.

"I'll be happy to sleep with the other seventh year boys. You and Nott can share the Head Boy's room."

"And Headmistress McGonagall said you could both use the prefect bathrooms, since there aren't any Slytherin prefects or head students left," Abbott chimes in.

"No," Pritchard snaps.

"We'll talk it over," Zabini says, neutrally, looking at a group of first and second years. He's probably thinking that if we accept, he'll be able to stop dealing with the ones who want to sleep with him. By the middle of the year, it'd gotten to a point where almost everyone was camping out in the common room, wanting to be close to others; someone would always cry when he and I tried to stay in the seventh year dorms. In the Hufflepuff basement, plenty of other students'll surround them, and Abbott and Macmillian will probably happily take over the duties of comforting the younger ones.

They leave, and Zabini looks at me.

"Your call," I tell him, finishing my plate. I was supposed to pick out the foods I wanted and pay attention to the taste and how my body reacted. Instead, I did what I always did and filled up my plate with whatever was close. I feel the same as I always do.

0

"It's the safest House in Hogwarts," Abbott cheerfully tells some of the first years as Macmillian demonstrates how to get in. "Some of the plants have berries and edible leafs; you can eat any of them you want, Professor Sprout is very careful to make sure none of them are poisonous."

Yumiko squirms in Zabini's arms.

We crawl in, and the first thing I notice is how warm it is.

"Yeah," a Hufflepuff girl, a fourth year says to me, nodding. "We always have a bit of trouble with cooling charms and the like, but during the winter, this is the warmest place in the castle. The dorms are a bit cooler; they don't have any fireplaces. We just leave the dorm doors open, and the heat from the common room plus the natural warm from being down so low is more than enough."

"Here," Macmillian says, coming over to Zabini and me. "I'll take you to the head boy's room."

0

A week passes, and everything is as normal as can be under the circumstances. Certain parts of the castle are forbidden while construction is being done, and people who don't have wands are exempt from practical demonstrations. Most people, professors included, shy away from my House, and most of us avoid the others.

Zabini sends an owl out for Bulstrode every day, and every day it comes back, message still attached. At Hogwarts, she excelled at Charms and Transfiguration and was adequate at Defence. Yet she couldn't duel very well, and second year incident aside, she stuck firmly to the rules. Let her be ruthless, let her have blood on her hands, let her come back to her cat and Zabini.

I spoke too soon.

Someone, Susan Bones, Hufflepuff, is running, obviously panic-stricken.

She reaches out and begins trying to drag me. "Death eater. Wandless. Run!"

Too late.

Bones disappears from view, and I find myself with a wand jammed against my throat.

"I know what you did," a feminine voice croaks. "I saw you."

Frankly, I wish the universe would make up its damn mind. Either I'm going to die soon or I'm not.

"You killed your father," she hisses.

"Speak!"

In America, there's a saying. 'Anything you say can and will be used against you.' When I was younger, I thought it should have been, 'Anything you say can and might/may be used against you.'

My naïveté didn't last long.

"Hello, Roberta," Flitwick's squeaky voice says.

In the corner of my eyes, I see him, wand held.

"Come on, my dear," he says, gently. "You're much stronger than this. Whether you'd stayed in Azkaban or not, Robert would still be dead. He didn't die saving you. After he sent you out of the castle, he was protecting another student when Alecto Carrow hit him with a fatal curse."

Roberta Urquhart, death eater, mother of three children. A stillborn daughter, a death eater by the name of Ulysses, and Robert. He was more of a blood traitor than the Weasleys. He called himself brother to two muggles and was in love with another, planning marriage. He would have made an excellent professor; he had a way with children.

At the beginning of the year, he had his mother framed and sent to Azkaban, often sending her letters, I assume to try to keep her sane. Blood traitor or not, he still loved her; I wonder what it's like to disagree with someone so vehemently yet try everything in your power to keep them safe and as comfortable as you can.

Two words, a flash of green, and the man who had once saved my life, provided for me, and lived with me for eleven years, for five summers, hit the floor, dead by my hand.

I didn't even particularly disagree with him. I wonder if muggle-borns can ever fully interrogate, if mixed families are a healthy place for children to grow, and know history is filled with fools who caused great damage due to their belief muggles and magic can co-exist, knowing of one another, on a large scale; history has proven that idea false, and I have my doubts enough has changed for it to become true.

The difference is, I don't want to be involved in sides. My father was an isolationist, but I'm even more of one. Aside from blackmailing Zabini into asking Bulstrode to the Yule Ball and trying my best to subtly manipulate them into seeing the obvious for years, I don't care what people do as long as what they do doesn't affect me.

I have a fondness for them, I suppose. Zabini has to deal with his mother, like I had to deal with my father, and Bulstrode, like me, just wants to live her life without dealing with others. Somehow, though, they seem a little more as if they belong somewhere, if not at Hogwarts, when they're around one another.

Her hands are shaking.

"Don't dishonour your namesake by doing what you're thinking, Roberta. Let the child go, and I will try to help you."

Seventeen, a man in the eyes of the law. I couldn't kill my father while the trace was still on me; the three unforgivable curses were legalised under Thicknesse, and he was still minister during the battle. I was still cautious; if Potter won, I knew Thicknesse would be removed and the first order of the new minister would be for the three to be made punishable by a life sentence or capital punishment. The law would be retroactive. Here Flitwick is, talking as if I were a defenceless, innocent preteen.

Now would not be a good time to laugh, even though it is dreadfully amusing.

"He's no child! You don't know what he's done."

"He's a student," Flitwick answers, quietly. "He's not responsible for Robert's fate, Roberta. His name is Theodore Nott, and he's getting later for Divination by the minute."

Where exactly is Bones in all this?

Still shaking, she lowers her wand.

It flies out of her hands. "Step away from him, Roberta. Let me get Miss Bones down."

I look up. Susan Bones has her feet firmly stuck to the ceiling. Her eyes are closed, and her mouth is moving wordlessly.

0

There's a good chance Susan didn't hear anything.

Once they got her down, she promptly fainted, and once she came back to consciousness, she expressed great relief that she could hear, see, and talk, followed by declaring she wasn't going back to the astronomy tower, even if she was expelled, there was murder there and she'd decided she absolutely can't stand heights, all her words jumbling faster than she could speak.

Urquhart was taken back to Azkaban; I suppose the fact there aren't any more dementers there would be a comfort to her dead son. As far as I know, she hasn't made the accusation of me committing fratricide to anyone else.

Zabini has been sticking close to me, chasing off anyone who tries to talk to me about the incident. Meanwhile, Susan seems to welcome the attention.

0

Bulstrode appears, alive and with no permanent damage, her mother and grandmother unharmed. Days go by, and now, it's a week before graduation.

I still haven't got a wand, and I wonder if I'll ever miss Hogwarts. Only a few people here have truly struck me as interesting, and I suppose I've felt fondness for a few of them. I wouldn't die for any of them, though there are a few I think I'd kill for, assuming the risk of me getting caught was low.

Headmistress McGonagall seems worried about me.

"What are your plans, Mister Nott? Do you have any family? Are you close to any of the students here? Close enough that you could stay with them for a while?" And so on.

My plans are to go home. Hopefully, the house elves are still alive and well. I'll decide what to do once I get there. I doubt working will ever be a necessity, assuming the elves have protected the gold, but I might decide to start working or I might not.

Perhaps I should be worried, too.

I've always had plans, not for future outside of Hogwarts, but plans at Hogwarts, plans at home, plans on what to do, how to do it.

Yumiko climbs over me to play with one of the dancing plants. Officially, Bulstrode is sleeping with in the girls' dorm while her mother and grandmother sleep in guest quarters. In reality, I moved myself into the common room, commandeering one of the couches in the far corner, while Bulstrode and Zabini share the head boy's room. Whether they utilise both beds or not isn't my concern. Macmillian tried to get me to sleep in the boys' dorm, but Susan convinced the others to let me be.

The cat divides her nights between sleeping in the head boy's room and curling up on top of me. Thankfully, I've figured out the correct cooling charms to use.

Across the room, a group of people, playing cards, discuss the graduation gifts they'll be getting.

I remember how the others used to discuss the presents they got at the start of the year. Malfoy would brag, Crabbe and Goyle would have to be reminded what they got by Malfoy, Urquhart would be humble, Zabini would be nonchalant, and I would try to puzzle out why they got the gifts. After the third year, they stopped asking me.

Harry Potter tried to get the Dark Lord to feel remorse, promising a terrible fate if he didn't.

If I can help it, I'll never feel remorse for my father. Does that mean my soul is doomed? Should I care if it is?

0

"No wand," Elise mutters after I arrive as she bustles around, her joints slowing her considerably. "No wand, not acceptable, no. Nott name used to be powerful. Half-bloods and mudbloods and blood traitors get theirs but not my master. Won't do at all. Elise will send Jaky out; Jaky will find a suitable wandmaker. Not even given his father's wand."

I suppose I could have asked about it, asked if I could have it. I didn't think of it, though, and no one mentioned it.

"That's fine," I tell her. "How are you and the others?"

She looks at me for a moment before answering. "We is well. Master needs wand, yes. Master's had wand since he was six and showed accidental magic. Yes," she mutters, drifting away.

My bedroom is the same as always, plain and neat, my trunk already unpacked. I've never had any interest in posters or wallpaper, and after the sixth bookcase in my room was overfilling, I put an undetectable extension charm on my top desk drawer, organised all my books inside it, and ordered the house elves to get rid of the bookcases. My wireless is still in perfect working position, and everything is put up in its proper place, my clean clothes hanging neatly in my closet and folded in my dresser.

I dig out a book on Arithmancy.

0

An elf sets a plate down in front of me, and I suppose I really should know his or her name. Zabini was never close to anyone, not even Bulstrode until near the very end, and so, it's understandable he wouldn't know all the names of some of the dead. I don't think it's quite as understandable to not know the name of a creature who has lived in one's house for one's whole life.

I look down, and the elf gives me a tentative smile, body language betraying a hint of fear.

Nodding, I go back to the plate. I'll find out the names without asking.

As I'm finishing, Elise and a younger male elf come in. "Jaky found wandmaker for Master. Mudblood, yes, but talented. She make powerful wand."

"You didn't actually call her that within her hearing, did you?"

They shift. That's a yes.

I'm not cut out for ownership. "Fine, but don't do it again. In fact, from now on, unless there's a very good reason, don't bring up a person's blood status at all. It's time to accept muggle-borns are a part of wizarding society. My life will be much easier if it's made clear I'm no threat."

Elise looks at me with penetrating eyes but simply nods, speaking for all as she says, "Yes. We tell her we speak for old master, not young one, when we say such words. Master is ready?"

I nod, letting Elise apparate me to a tiny shop in Ireland.

The wandmaker is young, only a few years older than me, and she continually blows on a strand of hair that persistently falls on her forehead. "Acacia," she says, more to herself than me. "Thestral hair." Looking at me, she says, "You're one of the most interesting customers I've had in a long time."

"My other wand was acacia with dragonstring."

She smiles in a way that is somewhat disturbing and makes a note in her book. "Well," she tells me, "sometimes, wands change. Not usually, but I assume you took an active part in the war? When a wand is lost during a traumatic time, the person comes out different, and sometimes, that means their magic needs a different instrument. Now, we do debit; if you don't want to pay me, you can sign a letter authorising Gringotts to transfer the money to the store's account."

"How much," I ask, withdrawing my wallet.

0

"Your iron levels are still very low," Healer Thompson says when I come into St. Mungo's for a check-up. My father didn't believe in check-ups; in fact, he didn't believe in healers, either. When I was nine and caught a high fever, he considered taking me to St. Mungo's, but the fever broke on its own. On the other hand, I was thirteen when he came down with appendicitis, and he refused to go. The house elves had performed surgery, and he'd recovered on his own after it was over.

"Food's necessary, but I don't understand why people pay so much attention to it."

He raises an eyebrow. "Don't you ever get hungry? Feel a craving for a certain type of food?"

"Yes to the first, and no."

"Do you eat when you're hungry?"

"If it's mealtime, yes."

"What about snacks?"

"At Hogwarts, I'd eat them if someone in my House handed me one and told me to eat."

"Okay," he says. "I'm going to give you a journal; I want you to write down everything you have during meals. If you don't finish something or have more than one helping, write that down. Meanwhile, I'm going to prescribe vitamins; take one a day, and try to take them at the same time every day. The time isn't important, just whenever you think you think you can remember. Now, aside from your iron levels, you appear to be in good health. Is there anything else?"

"I was wondering if anything can be done about my teeth." They're uneven and slightly crooked, and despite my brushing every day, they're slightly yellow.

He examines them, asking me questions.

"I can fix them, or I can refer you to a tooth specialist. Part of the yellowness has to do with insufficient nutrition. It's also recommended a person brush and floss twice a day." All my life, I've only brushed once a day. "A whitening spell can be done. It won't completely rid you of the yellow, but it will help speed up the process, provided you brush and floss in the morning and at night."

"I'd like them fixed now."

0

"What happened to you?"

Jaky rubs his bruised arm, shooting a fearful look at my guest.

"Don't harm my elves, Mr Macnair," I say quietly. "Would you care to sit?"

Potter didn't take Macnair's escape from justice well.

He puffs his chest. "Don't tell me you're soft, Nott."

"I prefer efficient elves over cowering ones."

"This conversation is a private one."

"Jaky, leave."

Wordlessly, not looking happy, Jaky does.

We sit.

"I'm sorry about your father; he was an honourable man, full of talent."

"Thank you. Is there a reason aside from giving your condolences for your visit?"

"Our lord might be gone, but his idea still lives on," he tells me, earnestly. I wonder if he truly believes in the ideas or if he simply relishes the killing and torture. "We're forming a resistance, and you've been selected. We can help one another, and together, we can bring blood purity back to the wizarding world."

Says the son of a muggle-born and a half-blood, husband of a half-blood.

"I'm sorry to say you've wasted a trip, Mr Macnair. I have no intention of joining any resistance."

"But-" He sputters. "Our lord's ideas- your father's ideas."

"How many people have those ideas gotten killed? No. My father and the Dark Lord were both fighting a losing battle, and so, sir, are you."

"I never pegged you for a blood traitor, Nott," he hisses, standing.

I stand, too, hand slipping into my pocket for my wand. "Is that all, sir?"

"I suggest you rethink things. We won't take kindly to traitors."

This is the part where I'm supposed to be scared. This is the part where I wish the universe would stop toying with me. Some people feel intense fear; my mother once held a knife to my neck, and even as I felt it slipping in, felt the unbearable pain, all I remember was wanting the pain to stop rather than feeling any desire to flee, to live, to get away from her.

"I've had years to think things through."

He slips his wand out of his pocket. "You're the last of the Nott's. It'll be a shame for your name to end, but-"

Before either of us can raise our wands, Jaky reappears, standing protectively in front of me, visibly startling Macnair. "Sir will leave, now," he says, firmly, fingers poised to snap.

Laughing, Macnair pockets his wand. Looking me straight in the eye, he says, "Bells have been rung, Nott. You won't always have your elves around."

Macnair leaves, but that's not the end of it. Shortly after he does, Elise appears, Jaky trailing behind her. "Threatened Master; can't get away with such, no," she informs me.

I set my book down. "The house is well-protected."

"Master goes to St. Mungo's! Might want to go elsewhere, too."

"Elise, don't worry about it. I-"

"Orders not do any good," she informs me. "We feel what we feel; one thing wizards not controlling."

"Point noted. Leave it be, then. My father left me a marked man; if I'm lucky, I'll survive. If I'm not, I've already filed my will. A witch by the name of Hermione Granger will make sure you and the others are taken care of."

Jaky looks horrified while Elise looks grim. "Won't do," she mutters. "No, won't do at all."

0

"You don't eat much," Healer Thompson notes. "You don't eat much meat, either. That usually isn't a problem for vegetarians and vegans, but you aren't getting the necessary nutrients elsewhere. I'm assuming your lack of meat isn't due to morality?"

"No. I just eat whatever the house-elves serve."

"Okay," he sighs. "I usually don't do this, but I'm going to make up a menu for the month. Give it to them, and make sure it's followed. If you want to eat past the menu, that's fine. It might take a week or two for you to be able to completely follow the menu, but try your best to completely follow it, aside from possibly eating beyond it."

I nod.

"Anything else?"

"How do I go about getting sterilised?"

He raises an eyebrow. "If contraception has-"

"I'm not seeing anyone," I interrupt. "I've been thinking about this for a long time. My mother was my father's first cousin. She tried to kill me when I was three due to mental issues. My father- well, aside from being a paranoid sadist, everyone knows what sort of person he was. Lack of nutrition may be a part of it, but there's a good possibility I'll always be physically frailer than I should be. Aside from that, I seem to have come through with my mental and physical health undamaged. If I do ever get involved with a woman, I don't want to risk her getting pregnant and deciding to carry to term."

He leans back, looking thoughtful. "You're seventeen, Theodore. Legally, you're an adult, almost eighteen, but you're still so young. There might come a time you find someone, and you decide you do want children."

"That doesn't matter. Do you know how many fevers I've came down with over the years? Every time there was a bug or flu at Hogwarts, I was one of the first victims." Reaching up, I touch the almost completely faded scar on my neck. "I still remember how the knife felt going in. I'm the product of so much inbreeding that even if I had a child with someone completely unrelated to me, there's a good chance they'd have too many problems to ever have a proper life."

"Well," he says, "as I've said, you are an adult, and you do have the right to make these decisions. Why don't we see if the menu works, first? You can think about it some more. Once you're nutrient levels are where they need to be, if you still want it, we can schedule the procedure."

"Okay," I agree.

"Would you like a less permanent form of contraception in the meantime?"

"No."

0

_Nott, _

_My mother is insisting on throwing me a birthday party; if you come, bring an owl for my present. My old one adopted Yumiko. If you want to bring your elves, feel free._

_Signed, _

_Blaise Zabini_

I suppose this means either nothing happened or whatever happened didn't last.

"Elise make a suggestion?"

Looking up, I nod as Elise feeds the post owl.

"Master want to break away from Old Master? Master go to party, show people he different. Then, he be able to work in peace."

I don't actually work. Lately, I've taken to reading and conducting experiments to disprove current alchemy textbooks. Her suggestion is a good one, however. I'm never going to convince anyone I'm a noble person, but if I go to the party, socialise a bit, and then, return home to my quiet life, perhaps that will convince people I'm not secretly threatening the security of wizarding Europe.

"Find a suitable owl for his present. If you and any of the other elves want to come, that's fine. It's a choice."

"We coming."

"We are coming," I correct, absently. "Or: We will come. I'll need to send a letter; he didn't say when the party was or where."

"Birthday on the twenty-fifth; we know address," Elise replies. "We is friends with some of his elves."

Is, are, I mentally correct.

0

"You've gained some weight," Zabini comments, handing me a bottle of pumpkin juice. "Thanks for the owl, Nott."

"What happened with Bulstrode?"

He shrugs. "Nothing. At Hogwarts, we both had nightmares, and we slept in bed together. Afterwards, she went home with her family, I went home to mine, and Gomer decided to stay with Yumiko."

Impulse control has never been a problem for me. At this moment, however, I want to curse him. I want to track her down and do the same, and possibly add Longbottom and Lovegood to that list.

People are stupid, people are fearful, and so on.

Zabini first talked to Bulstrode during our second year. After the Yule Ball, they talked to one another more frequently. When it was time for her to leave, she left her cat, the most precious thing besides her mother and grandmother, in his care. I'd bet a lot she loved him, and I'd bet everything he loves her.

None of this is my concern.

"I wasn't aware our elves knew one another."

"Klinky knew a lot of the Hogwarts elves; he was overprotective. Until my third year when Dumbledore tightened the wards, he'd come over all the time." Looking across the room, he sighs. "Excuse me."

I wander around, eventually stopping when I hear Elise's voice coming from the kitchen. I stand against the wall, looking down at a book I've brought along.

"We thank Klinky."

"Not enough," another elf says. "Has to change, something does," the elf continues, grimly. "Master called a man, now. Other elves won't spare as much anymore. Some not sparing any at all. Klinky different, but he only able to spare so much. Has his own to look after."

"Klinky could talk to his master," another elf says. "He has loyalty to Nott boy."

"Winky will give us leftover vegetables and fruits from Haggy's garden."

"Master needs meat; healer say so." Elise sighs. "Master is different from old master. We tell him old master not let us use more than certain amount of coins for food, and he-"

Another elf interrupts her, and I walk away.

Lately, the elves have been getting thinner. I hadn't noticed, further proving I'm not cut out for ownership.

0

"Did Master enjoy the party?"

"Hopefully, it'll accomplish my mission," I answer. "Elise, forget the budget my father set. I want all of you well-fed, and I don't want you trying to wrangle charity out of other elves to do so."

For a long moment, she simply looks at me. "Master is free, but will he ever be happy?"

"That isn't your concern."

"Elise knows you've been helping that mudblood advance," she says, quietly. "Master wants to be rid of us."

This old elf has just proven herself potentially interesting.

"You are necessary sacrifices. If I free you and the others, the world will have no choice but to acknowledge me as good."

"Master will be killed the second we gone."

"So be it."

Nodding, she starts to walk off, but then, she stops, turning. "Elise watched old Master go from baby to old man. Never had any love for Elise, he didn't. Master doesn't, either, but Elise keeps hoping, one day there be a little Nott. Return her love."

I wonder at the wizards and witches and any other beings who helped enslave elves. Did they realise the cruelty of what they were doing? Did they care? Did they do it because they themselves were cruel?

Standing before me is a creature who has never known freedom, likely never will, and yet, she loves those who keep her enslaved. It's not uncommon. For every one like the Malfoy's dead elf, there are ones like Elise. Can any of them ever truly be happy in slavery?

I know I wouldn't be.

"Elise, I've been permanently sterilised," I lie. "The Nott line will end with me."

"So be it," she echoes, disappearing.

0

I wake up to hear yelling.

"Theodore Nott, if you're here, I'd like to speak to you! If he's not, I apologise to everyone for my yelling!"

Getting up, I go to the door. "Elise, move aside. Bones?"

"Yes," Susan answers. "I apologise for causing a scene. May I talk to you?"

"Come in. Elise, make some tea."

After Elise is gone, I motion for her to sit. "Why are you here?"

She pauses, hands going to her stomach. "I visited Roberta Urquhart," she says, her voice wavering. "She insists you killed your father."

"And?"

Susan Bones is terrified, but she takes several breaths. "I believe her."

"You are aware the sensible thing to do would be to anonymously-"

"I need gold," she says, shaking.

The Hufflepuff is blackmailing the Slytherin. Life continually amuses me.

"How much?"

She looks at me as if I'm insane. I'm not the pregnant witch who came alone to the house of a Dark family, believing the owner coldly killed his own father.

Elise appears with the tea. I dismiss her, and Susan doesn't drink any of her tea. "How much," I repeat.

Taking another breath, she says, "I need enough to go somewhere safe. The Goyle family is after me, and if- if I go to Hannah or anyone else, people will get hurt."

Goyle sr. is a fan of martial rape; during the first war, he managed to save himself from a guilty verdict. Unless, of course, she means the currently imprisoned Gregory Goyle. "Give me a few minutes."

Leaving, I go to my father's room.

Elise appears. "Is Bones girl carrying baby?"

"Yes," I answer, summoning my mother's mokeskin pouch. "A Goyle."

"Why is Master giving Bones girl jewels?"

"I have to help her, but if I give her the gold needed, it'll severely set back the household."

"Have to help?"

"Yes."

Elise doesn't press. Instead, she starts packing the pouch, filling it with all the jewels but one. "This was Mistress's wedding ring," she says. "Before she got sick, she wanted Master to give it to girl he married."

Before she got sick translates into before she decided to try to kill me via a knife to the throat. I'll never get married.

Looking down, I see Elise looking at me with pleading eyes.

"Put it back, then."

I get enough gold for a Go-Anywhere Ticket on the Knight Bus and add that to the pouch.

Going back to the living room, I hand it to her. "Most of it is jewels, but you shouldn't have any trouble selling them. If I give you the gold needed, my elves will suffer."

She glances inside before quickly scurrying out the door.

0

When I come home from the procedure, I find Susan Bones lying on my couch while Jaky spoon-feeds her soup.

"Miss got sick," he explains.

It's been two months. If she's already managed to spend all that I gave her, we're going to have a problem.

Sitting up, she gently pats Jaky on the head. "I'm okay," she assures him, voice somewhat croaky.

Jaky gives me a look.

"Let me talk to Miss Bones alone."

He leaves, and Susan tosses something at me.

It's the mokeskin pouch. Opening it, I find jewels and gold.

"I'm not a blackmailer."

It's rare to find a Hufflepuff who will hold the same self-loyalty as they do regular loyalty.

"Take care of yourself, Nott."

She gets up to walk out and, after two steps, falls facedown on the floor.

0

"She and the baby are doing fine," Healer Thompson tells me. "Do you want to see her?"

"No." I imagine it'll take an hour for the ministry to issue a warrant for my arrest. Whether I can get out of the UK before then or not, I don't know. "Good day."

0

"State your full name for the record."

"Theodore Nott."

Auror Savage cocks her head, tapping the self-writing quill. "This doesn't make sense."

"Surely, my name isn't that uncommon."

"Why would you confess? We have a file on you, Mister Nott, and everything on it points to you being sociopathic. No one would ever suspect that the cause of your father's death was an unprovoked attack by you. You committed as near a perfect crime as one could."

"Sociopaths often crave recognition, auror," I note.

"That's not it."

"Believe what you want. I'm not compelled to explain my motivation."

"Very well," she says, tapping the self-writing quill. "Tell me exactly what happened during the Battle of Hogwarts."

0

"This is my fault."

Looking up from the cot, I inquire, "Did you somehow Imperio me and direct me to kill him?"

Sighing, Susan leans against the wall, hands wrapped around her stomach. "I tried to blackmail you, Nott."

"After I killed him," I point out. "I don't understand your guilt."

"No," she says, quietly. "I suppose you wouldn't."

"Normal people wouldn't, either. I killed a man in cold blood. You tried to use that as leverage to protect yourself and future progeny. People would say you have less to feel guilty about than I do."

"Do you feel guilty?"

"No."

That causes something between a chuckle and a scoff. "A little girl."

"Healthy?"

"Yes."

A guard appears. "Visiting hours are over, Miss."

"I'll tell Jaky you're doing okay."

I nod. Granger has taken over custody of the elves, but Jaky has grown very attached to Susan, often staying with her at the Longbottom's place and following her around on the weekends.

0

"It's two in the morning," I note, trying to blink away the sleep.

"Your bail has been paid."

That makes no sense. I'd refused to pay my bail, and Susan might have been willing due to her irrational guilt, but she's certainly not able.

"Hello, Nott," a familiar voice says, startling me. "The ministry's done a good job of keeping your arrest under wraps. We were surprised."

"Bulstrode?"

Her customary plait is gone, replaced by a bob cut that, somehow, makes her face look less harsh, and she's dressed in black robes, higher in quality than any of her past clothes. Nodding, she says, "Blaise paid for it; I'm just here to collect you."

"Ah," I say, standing. "The two of you finally came to your senses, then. Congratulations."

"We're business partners," she responds, giving me a curious look.

Of course, they are. Mrs Hannah Longbottom is expecting her first child, and I've heard Lovegood is out-of-country, exploring the world. Why would this be any different?

0

"Is it yours?"

It takes a minute to realise what he's asking.

"No. Goyle's."

Making a face, Zabini inquires, "Which one?"

"I don't know; she tried to blackmail me so that she could go into hiding."

His expression darkens, and I inform him, "She came back and returned all the jewels and gold. Hufflepuff to the end."

"Then, why are you currently awaiting trial?"

"She knew. Urquhart's mother knew. I rather firmly cut all ties with my father's old acquaintances, and I decided it would be better to place myself in the ministry's protection rather than wait for someone much more dangerous to find out."

"What if you win?"

"Don't be naïve, Zabini," I reply, mildly. "Aside from killing a man from behind, I'm the Slytherin son of a death eater."

He looks thoughtful. "I never imagined you and I would be having a conversation like this. I need to get back to Italy; take care."

I nod, and he floos away. I'm confined to the manor, and most of the elves are with Elise, who did something to get herself put under strict watch by the ministry. Jaky and Susan come almost every day, usually bearing baked sweets. Longbottom and his wife, naturally, aren't happy she comes (I get the feeling she's forbade them from coming with her), but she insists.

0

"You slept on the floor."

"I had a crib," I explain, patiently. For the third time. "I kept screaming whenever I was put in it. Eventually, my father put a thick blanket on the floor and put a bubble charm combined with a shielding one over it. I didn't scream, and I was perfectly safe and comfortable."

"They could have tried a bassinet or had you sleep with them."

"Elise was terrified I'd somehow turn a bassinet over, and there's a good chance I would have been crushed or suffocated if they'd done that."

"Could I see the crib?"

Shrugging, I nod, taking her to the storage room.

The crib is a large, white canopy one, made of iron, with black netting. Whenever I see it, I wonder if I missed the chance as an infant to sleep in the bed that inspired Gothic muggle authors to write about the bedroom set of the demon child.

"Did your mum and dad check it good for curses," she inquires, politely.

"Yes," I answer. "They did before I was born, and when I wouldn't settle, they had it extensively retested. There's nothing magical about it; I was just a strange baby."

"I can believe that," she notes, trailing her fingers across the bars and the netting. "Would you consider selling it?"

"If you want it, take it," I answer. "I'll never have any use for it."

0

"I can't do this!"

Apparently, I'm the guy a person can come to at two- no, three- in the morning to freak out about impending motherhood.

I can't believe it, really. Who ever saw that coming?

"Is it too late to terminate?"

No, I'm not being deliberately obtuse or simply a sarcastic dick as her look implies. Unlike some, I don't how to comfort people. I especially don't know how to do so at three in the morning after just being woken up.

"What do I know about babies?"

"Considering you're training to be a paediatric healer, I would hope-"

"Raising them! Shit," she mutters, surprising me. Susan isn't one for profane language. "I- oh, fuck. I can't do this. I tried to blackmail you, and I once cheated in Herbology, and I'm friends with you. My mother's answer to everything bad was to feed me sweets, and my father still isn't speaking to me. I wish, more than anything, that my Aunt Amelia was still around, but no, your father had to bloody kill her! And dear God, I can literally feel my blood in my body, and that's not normal."

That's true; it isn't.

Rubbing my eyes, I stand up. Firmly, I order, "Susan, get on the bed and lay down. Take deep breaths. You're going to St. Mungos."

She swats at my hands as I guide her onto the bed. "Stay," I order, leaving the room and going to the nearest fireplace.

0

"Blood sugar," Susan says, weakly, though still grumpily from her bed. "Healer Thompson and I are going to try to work out a diet and exercise plan, but there's a possibility I'll need potions to help regulate it."

"Is the baby okay?"

"She's fine," Susan says, sighing. "As long as she doesn't decide to be born until I have a few years to get myself together, she'll keep being fine."

I simply look at her, unsure how to help.

Sighing, again, she says, "I'm eighteen. I'm homeless. And I have no idea what in the world I'm going to tell my little girl when she asks about her daddy. I've always believed that termination is a valid option, but when I found out- I couldn't even consider it for myself without feeling sick. I can't give her up to someone else."

"Surely, the Longbottoms-"

"They'd never kick me out," Susan says, grimly. "It's a roof over my head. My job at Hannah's pub is-"

Shutting her eyes, she shakes her head. "How are you so detached, Nott? I can't be. I've tried, and it doesn't work. My father hates me, and I'm relying on a former housemate and her husband for my survival. And I could deal with this if I wasn't a mum. Or at least, about to be one in a few months."

"A lot of people would say my being so detached isn't a good thing," I point out.

She nods, and before either of us can say anything, Healer Thompson reappears. "Hello, sweetie," he says, gently. "Theodore, there's a gift shop on the eighth floor; go buy Susan a leprechaun clover."

0

Now is a good time as any, I suppose, to wonder what's going on in my own life.

I have a home. I never have to worry about parenthood.

Here I am, browsing a hospital gift shop for a girl who tried to blackmail me.

This doesn't make sense.

I pay for the clover and leave, only to be stopped on the third floor. "Nott."

Raising my hands, I reply, "Harry Potter."

"You activated the alarm."

I'd forgotten there where charms on the manor to notify the ministry if I left. I'm surprised there weren't measures to prevent me from actually leaving.

"Harry, no."

Turning, I see Susan, one hand around her stomach, the other against the railing on the wall. She's still in her hospital gown, and she looks paler than before. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"I heard on the wireless," she answers, dismissively, slowly moving forward. "Harry, I went over, and we got sick. My blood sugar. You can talk to Healer Thompson. Theodore called them, and he came to answer their questions. I couldn't- wasn't in a state to answer."

"You still aren't," I say, spotting an empty wheelchair nearby. Hopefully, it isn't someone's personal wheelchair. I summon it and tell her, "Sit down, Bones. You're going back to your room, and you're staying there until Healer Thompson discharges you." Unlike muggle wheelchairs, this one is somewhat similar to a recliner, and I activate that feature so that her legs are propped up and lying against the fabric before heading for the nearby elevator.

Once we get to the room, I levitate her onto the bed, tugging the call bell. "Drink," I order, handing her the glass of water from her hospital-issued nightstand.

She takes a few sips, and then, promptly bursts into tears. "You can't leave. Not because of me. You're the only one who- Well, you might judge me, but it doesn't hurt so much!"

Potter steps over, taking her hand. "Susan," he says, tentatively, "it's okay. I'm not going to take Nott into custody. Obviously, he had a good reason for leaving. After I talk to Doctor Thompson, I'll take him back to his house, alright?"

She quickly calms down, and by the time Healer Thompson appears, Potter and Susan are in a conversation about his godson and whether butterbeer on a rag is better than some over-the-counter teething potion or not.

"Here," I tell her, digging the clover out of my pocket when it's time to leave. "Don't leave until you get a full discharge."

She rolls her eyes but nods, holding the clover against her chest. "Thank you, Theodore."

When we get back to the manor, I can tell Potter is very curious about Susan and me. That makes two of us.

Thankfully, however, he doesn't say anything other than, "Don't leave, again, Nott," before leaving.

0

"Master needs to leave UK."

Jumping, I accidentally spill my inkwell, looking up.

"Elise."

Nodding, she walks over and makes the ink disappear with a wave of her hand. "Elise is warrior. She able to leave when she wants."

"You do know that I killed Father, don't you? It's the truth."

Looking at me, she inquires, "Who does Master think bind him? Stupid Master, breaking his wand before leaving. Could've done it after he was safe, but no, Elise had to take him to St. Mungos, leave him in a closet. Had to wait until someone find him."

"Your loyalty to my father is touching."

"Elise tells on Master, Master goes to Azkaban, and old Elise ends up in some old family like Blacks. They called charitable, and Elise finds her head mounted on wall," she answers, bluntly.

I feel myself smiling. How I wish I'd seen this side of her when I was younger. Father was never that clever, and Mother was clever but too emotional to function properly. I sometimes wondered who I got my nature from, and now, I see.

Blood is meaningless. I'm more the son of an old house-elf than I ever was the son of purebloods.

"Three days," I tell her. "Go back, and then, in three days, we'll leave."

She nods, bowing.

Then, she's gone.

0

"Did my father really kill your mother?"

Susan's lying on my bed, looking up at the enchanted ceiling as a Celestina Warbeck plays on the wireless. This has become a thing. She comes over at eight and lies in bed with me, telling me about her day. It usually lasts an hour or two before she goes back to the Longbottom's.

Tensing, she answers, "Yes. She was at the Battle of Hogwarts. At St Mungo's, as she was dying, they did a penseive on her and gave it to me."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"We didn't know-"

"After we got to know one another."

"I still don't know you," she says, quietly, turning away. "This doesn't make sense. You feel safe, and I don't know why."

"Could I see it?"

"I destroyed it."

"Fair enough," I say, sitting up. "You don't feel safe. You tried to blackmail me, you visited me in Azkaban, and now, you come over every night. I broke the conditions of my parole because you got sick."

"I'm sorry," she says, tearfully.

The last thing I want is for her to cry.

"Bones, I killed a man in cold blood. I killed him when his back was turned. I killed him when his wand arm was lowered. I killed him after he had once saved my life. You were an eighteen-year-old girl with no family support who found yourself pregnant by a war criminal. You panicked, and you rather pathetically tried to blackmail me. You could have gotten yourself killed, you know. And then, because you have a moral compass, you came back, and you gave everything back."

Touching her arm, I say, "The first thing you need to learn about parenthood is that this baby you're carrying is going to make mistakes and do bad things. Intent and circumstances always matter."

Rolling back over, she looks up, taking a deep breath. "Thank you."

Nodding, I wipe away the fallen tears, and overtaken by instinct, I lean down and kiss her forehead.

Only two more days. Some part of me feels as if I should tell her, now.

0

"Do you have a name planned out?"

"Sara," she mutters, sleepily. "No 'h'. It means princess."

One more day.

Seeing that she's fallen asleep, I carefully slip out of bed and go to the dining room.

Taking a breath, I sit down, closing my eyes.

I don't know if I can't feel anything or if I just can't recognise what I am feeling.

0

After sending an owl to the ministry and being granted permission to floo to St. Mungos, I find myself in an examining room.

"What seems to be the problem?"

"My emotions," I answer.

Healer Thompson gives me a sympathetic look. "Do you think you might depressed?"

"I don't know. As back as I can remember, I've rarely felt things very strongly. Most of the time, I don't think I feel anything at all. Or if I can"

He sighs. "You can feel things, Theodore. Trust me. You may not be able to recognise what you feel, you may not be able to connect properly with your emotions, but you do have them."

"Why the melancholy on your part, then?"

"I'm not sure what the problem is, but I can tell you that it won't be easy to fix. Whether it's finding the right medication or going through a long process of therapy, there's no easy solution. If this had been caught when you were younger-" He trails off.

"You think I might not have killed my father."

He's quiet for a long minute.

"I think you're a good person," he says. "You just don't know it. And no matter what the outcome of your trial, if you want to pursue treatment, I will help you. However, I should warn you that- this could end up being very painful for you. If I could help you learn to experience the good without having to deal with all the bad, I would."

"I've read that dealing with the bad is part of being human."

"It is," he agrees. "Another part of being human is wanting to spare those you care for having to."

"I want to pursue treatment."

We make an appointment for the weekend, him warning me there will be a lot of tests and repetitive questions.

0

The glove flutters down, landing in Elise's hand.

"It's time to go, Elise," I tell her, kneeling down. "You don't have much of a life to live, and I don't have any. The Nott family was built on something unstable, and it can't stand any longer. If you've ever truly wanted what was best for me, don't let me watch you and the others fall with it."

"Elise always knew something different about you," she says, sadly, shaking her head. "Mistress loved you. Not right, no, but she thought- Free."

"I've never held a grudge against her."

She summons more clothes. "Jaky stay with Bones girl."

"It'll be his choice."

Suddenly, there are tears. "Elise never want this for you."

"This started long before you born, Elise; there's nothing you could have done."

Nodding, she leans forward and presses a kiss against my forehead.

Then, she's gone.

0

"Do you understand the charges levied against you, Mister Nott?"

From the cage, I answer, "Yes."

"How do you plead?"

"Guilty."

One of them starts to open her mouth, but a loud wail fills the room.

Susan.

Right, I'm in a cage, meaning I can't get to her.

Moving as much as I can, I try to see past the people surrounding her. She's on the floor, one hand gripping the chair leg, another holding tightly to Jaky's hand.

"He's not going to run! You haven't sentenced yet! Theodore, come, you have to come, please, please, oh God, kill me now, Jaky, get him, and then, give him a wand so that he can kill me, no, wait, I have- give my wand back, you-" An inhumane sound emits from her.

Potter walks over, taps the cage, and it disappears. He stands aside.

"Thank you."

I rush over, taking her hand from Jaky's. Trying to ignore the physical pain, I place my other hand on her stomach, feeling my stomach twist as the baby kicks. "Susan, I'll go with you. Take deep breaths. We need to stabilise your blood pressure as much as possible before we go. You don't want to have to tell Sara she was born in the middle of a courtroom hearing, do you?"

"The Goyle's are big. Oh, God, she's going to weigh twelve pounds, and I'm going to give her weight issues for the rest of her life. Jaky, go kill the Goyles!"

"No!"

I look at him, and he blinks at me. "It not make things better?"

"Yes, yes, it will, go-"

"Susan, stop ordering the helplessly devoted elf to murder. Take deep breaths."

As she does, I tell her, "You were five pounds. I was three. The healers will give you a numbing potion and whatever they need to, and she'll come out easily."

"And we can send Jaky to kill the Goyles if she doesn't," she says, thankfully, in a tired, trying-to-joke, vaguely sarcastic way rather than a fervent, hormonal way. Her hand is still unnaturally tight around mine, breaths coming out in pants, but she's calm enough to be moved.

"Of course," I answer, turning my head and nodding at the others, motioning for them to help, now.

0

"It'll be okay," Susan keeps repeating, her voice slurred. "It'll be okay."

Jaky, obviously does not believe her, clinging to my leg as he looks up at her with wide, terrified eyes.

"Hannah," Susan says, suddenly, squeezing her friend's hand as Hannah strokes her face. "If I die, you have to make sure- Don't send her to Hogwarts. I loved it, until the end of my fourth year, but- Look at him, it's so easy to be alone, there."

"She's not going to die," I assure Jaky, tentatively patting his head. "The last witch in the UK to die due to childbirth was the Dark Lord's mother, and if she'd even been in a decent muggle hospital, the chances of her living would have been almost guaranteed."

The midwitch appears, waving her wand. "You're almost ready for delivery, Miss Bones. Are you experiencing any pain?"

"Hannah," Susan says, completely ignoring her, "if they come, you have to fight. Where's Neville? The sword- he can-"

"Honey," Hannah say, softly, "Neville's still in Bulgaria; he's trying his best to get back, but he may not be able to until after the delivery."

Turning her eyes on me, Susan says, "You have to, then. You owe me, Theodore. You can't let them- you can't."

"Miss Bones," the mediwitch says, firmly, "no one but you will leave here with the child. Special enchantments are in place to protect our neonatal patients."

"Jaky, if any of the Goyle's come and ask to do a DNA test-"

"Without your consent or a legal order, we would refuse," the mediwitch says, looking at me.

The look makes me uncomfortable.

"Oh," Susan says, softly, causing me to end up with an armful of quaking house-elf. "The princess is coming. Theodore, hold my hand; Hannah, start taking pictures. Jaky, get a cold, wet towel and be prepared to have me bite it; I don't want one of the first thing my daughter hears to be her mum screaming."

It's fascinating how everyone and everything springs into action.

I set Jaky down on the counter and go sit in the chair Hannah has vacated.

0

"Are you okay?"

Sara's asleep in my arms, occasionally nuzzling against my chest. She's six pounds, four ounces and has a very thin, pale layer of hair covering her head. She has Susan's blue eyes.

The world is full of pain and suffering, but some people are lucky enough to be untouched by it. I wonder if she'll insist on eating marshmallows every Thursday at midnight like her mother does, if she'll make a lot of friends or just have a few close ones, if she'll be the kind who can find humour in anything or the type who sees all the pain and suffering and decides she'll try to fix it. I can see she has so much potential for so many things, and as much as I want to see all that happen, I hope she stays like this, tiny and utterly helpless for a little while.

"No." I refuse to believe there are tears in my eyes. "She's not mine, and I think I'd do anything to see her safe and happy. If my mother felt anything like this when she held me, how could she bring herself to even think about sliding a knife in my throat?"

"You will be."

There's a gentle hand on my shoulder, and the tears fall.

Standing up, I carefully put her in Healer Thompson's arms. "I need to- clear my head."

0

"Is she okay," Susan inquires, sleepily.

"Yes," I answer, leaning down to kiss her. "I need to go, now."

Nodding, she trails her finger across my hand. "I'm still overdramatic," she informs me, blearily. "Don't do-" She yawns, eyes firmly closing.

I floo back to the ministry.

0

The newspaper reads that Susan Amelia Bones gave birth to Sara Theodora Nott.

After my sentence, I definitely need to talk to her.

0

A cold feeling of fear sweeps through me.

Looking over, I see Susan is watching as Jaky and Elise play with Sara. I'm about to lose them all.

"All those who find Theodore Nott guilty, raise their hand."

Naturally, every hand rises.

"Though we've found no evidence of the accused's involved with Lord Voldemort, he has proven himself sociopathic and willing to ruthlessly murder. The recommended penalty is death. Are there any objections?"

No.

I close my eyes.

0

If she had her wand, Susan would hex me.

Reaching over, I grab her hands, pulling her down next to me. "You gave her my name," I note. "I want Sara to grow up in a better world than we do. After this, they won't be able to give lighter sentences to the likes of the Goyles. There would be a public blacklash if they did. It's okay."

"It's not okay!" Tears run down her face, and I swallow. "I gave her your name because you love her. I've known that since before you did. Where's her better world with her father dead?"

"I killed mine, Susan."

"You were a victim," she hisses, "and you tried to free yourself. You didn't see any other way."

Carefully, I put my arms around her. "A long time ago, the Nott name was respected. It represented good. With Sara, its redemption can start. Listen to me: I'm going to stop the treatments; it turns out that I'm actually somewhat terrified of death. Tell me goodbye, and then, go home to our daughter."

She sobs. "I c-can't just say goodbye."

"Yes, you can. As long as you have Sara and the Longbottoms and Elise and Jaky, you can get through this; I promise."

Leaning back, she grabs my face and kisses me. "I love you, Theodore."

"I've gathered," I note, taking a deep breath and wiping her face. "Thank you. Now, go home," I order, kissing her cheek.

"I love you," she repeats, standing, her legs wobbly.

Then, she leaves.

0

Until now, I've never seen Healer Thompson truly uncomfortable. "The potions should be completely out of your system by the time-"

"It's okay." Sitting up, I tell him, "Thank you. Aside from the house-elves, you were the first person to take an active interest in my well-being. It's- it's been a long time since I experienced feelings, and I'm glad I was able to."

Suddenly, I'm being hugged.

0

The doorbell rings.

Sighing, Susan sets the baby down in her crib. "I'll get it," she tells Elise.

Nodding, Elise waits until Susan has left her old master's bedroom before climbing up and looking down at the baby who coos when Elise's face comes into view. "The Nott line will continue, yes," she gently tells Sara. "Elise won't see it happen, but it will."


End file.
